Mile High
by Tonight.At.Noon
Summary: A cocky actor and a flight attendant meet on an airplane the year following a one-night stand.


_|there's_ _something about you, boy_

 _but you're still the same_ |

london grammar 'nightcall'

* * *

 **Mile High**

* * *

"Did you hear?" Bonnie whispers excitedly as she races up the aisle on her tiptoes, her blue skirt bunching. She is breathing hard when she reaches Caroline at the back of the plane. Behind her petite figure passengers for the red eye to London trickle past the first class cabin.

Caroline pauses her work checking breakfast orders to glare at Bonnie's blatant unprofessionalism. "Did I hear what?" she asks. Her glare disappears after a moment. She has never been able to stay annoyed at the mocha-skinned girl before her for very long. They have been best friends since Caroline's first day working as a flight attendant out of Dulles five years ago.

"Klaus Mikaelson is on this flight!" Bonnie squeals, and Caroline, as she feels her heart rate pick up, is suddenly glad they are mostly hidden from view behind the lavatories. "He's on his way to London after filming on his latest film wrapped up last night. He's sitting in first class as we speak!"

The tall blond grips the edges of the refreshments cart. Her legs wobble, like they can't quite hold her up anymore. She peers around the corner of the bathroom. Crowds of people, most of them businessmen and businesswomen who look fairly exhausted and not at all happy about having to fly out overnight, jam their carry-on suitcases into the overhead bins. The curtain hiding first class wafts open every few seconds as a new wave of travellers break through.

Caroline holds her breath, waiting anxiously, but she catches no glimpse of him.

Bonnie is still bouncing when Caroline abandons her temporary post. "Isn't that so exciting? Aren't you covering first class this flight?" she asks, her words pouring out like a rushing waterfall. "I know that Hayley is dying to switch with you now that he's come on."

"She can take it," Caroline says quickly. "Tell her. . .tell her she can take it."

Bonnie stops bouncing. She touches Caroline's arm. "Are you okay, Care? I thought you liked Klaus Mikaelson's movies?"

"I'm fine," Caroline says, lying through her teeth. She isn't fine. She feels like the plane is plummeting towards the open ocean and they haven't even taken off yet. But she can't tell Bonnie that. Because then Bonnie will ask that damned _why_. Smiling a forced, painful smile at her friend, Caroline adds, "And I do like his films. They're great. I just would rather not deal with a celebrity tonight. What's he doing in a commercial jet anyway?"

Bonnie opens her mouth to answer Caroline's question, or maybe to announce that she also is confused by his sudden appearance on their flight (usually they are warned beforehand if a famous person is joining them in the sky), but Hayley rounds the corner of the toilets before she can voice any of the thoughts in her head. With Hayley's tall, model-esque figure in the space, Caroline has no room to manoeuvre out of the way and escape to the free toilet right in front of her. She needs time to panic, and neither of her coworkers are helping her achieve this goal.

Hayley is clearly very excited about the new addition. She buzzes with unrestrained joy. Leaning against the trolley, she vibrates the breakfast trays. Her long, chocolate waves brush her shoulders effortlessly. Her sharp cheekbones jut out as she smiles and giggles breathlessly like some schoolgirl.

"I can't believe it," she says, touching her blushed face. Caroline has to stop herself from cringing at Hayley's pre-teen valley girl voice. "I really can't believe he's here. I've been obsessed with him since grade school."

 _Hence the transformation back into an annoying sixth grader_ , Caroline thinks snidely.

Not that she hadn't also started watching him on her television when she was a young girl. Nobody could avoid the teen soap opera that started his career. _Vampires and Werewolves in Love_. The title speaks for itself. She sat at her sofa in front of the small television—the only TV her working, single mother could afford—and witnessed him transform into an angsty vampire every Thursday night. Her heart would flutter when he made out with his co-stars, then plummet whenever a pointed wooden stick plunged into his heart. Which happened a lot. Thankfully, he always, somehow, survived the attacks.

From there she followed his journey to the silver screen. Lined up to snag tickets to his latest film before it was possible to order them online. Spent too much money on follow-up viewings and DVDs.

Everyone likes Klaus Mikaelson. From his liquid gold curls to his charming British accent, what is there that is not to like. He is the fresh star of one of the most successful acting families of all time. He is right up there with Jake Gyllenhaal. Some may even say he is better.

Though she imagines people hurry to change their tune after meeting him in person.

She sure as hell did.

"Caroline." Hayley turns to her. She reaches out, taking Caroline's hands. "I know you're serving first class on this flight, but could you please, please switch with me?" She bats her long eyelashes. Pouts her pretty lips.

Caroline is not in the habit of giving Hayley what she wants. They have worked together for only six months, but that short time span has given her plenty of reasons to dislike the lean giantess clutching her hands like she wants to rip them off.

But she also meant what she said to Bonnie. Dealing with a celebrity, especially Klaus Mikaelson, is not on her schedule. She would rather be forced to eat the sausage and egg breakfast tray.

"Take it," she says.

Hayley's grip tightens. She hops in her heels. "Oh, thank you, thank you! You've no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I get it," Caroline says, pulling her hands free.

Hayley moves out of the way to gush a little more with Bonnie—kinder, sweeter Bonnie, who also dislikes Hayley, but who is much better than herself at hiding it—about her obsessive love for Klaus Mikaelson. Taking her opportunity, Caroline flees to the toilet and locks the door. The light above the sink flickers on. The cramped room smells horrible, but Caroline moves past this. It is the least of her worries. She presses down both taps. Water spills into the basin. Staring at herself in the small mirror, she brings up damp hands and smoothes out the flyaway strands of hair coming loose from her ponytail.

 _You can do this_ , she says to herself. _You are strong and you can do this_.

"Oh, I can't do this," she whines, watching her face crumple in the mirror before her eyes scrunch close.

Is it too late to lie about a family emergency?

Caroline pops one eye open and checks her watch. The door will have closed by now. She is stuck on this flight with the one and only Klaus Mikaelson. Anyone else would kill to be in her uncomfortable flight attendant shoes—it was the 21st century, why were they still forced to wear heels?—and she cannot blame them. He is, after all, incredibly rich and famous and, _fine_ , not that bad to look at.

But she can only assume that none of the people willing to lay down their lives for a chance to serve Klaus Mikaelson on bended knee had woken up naked in his hotel room in Washington DC last year to a note that read, _caroline, love, your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in the bathroom. had to jet out early. klaus_.

At least he remembered her name.

—

Her ears will not pop. Five years working in the sky and her ears still are struggling to adjust to the change in atmospheric pressure. She yawns again, careful not to accidentally swallow and/or choke on her piece of gum. She will have to spit it out in a moment when she brings out the refreshment cart for those unlucky bastards who can't sleep, a task which makes her feel like that two-dimensional character in the Harry Potter books, but she chews it vigorously, hoping it will work its magic before she must rid her mouth of it.

Caroline lifts herself away from the hidden crevice at the back of the plane. She glances down the aisle, her eyes catching Bonnie and Hayley giggling like children between first and business class. What an odd sight. It must be easy to forget you don't like someone when they've spent the last three hours asking Klaus Mikaelson if he needs anything. A few passengers stare at her coworkers' lack of proper working manners, which is a clear sign Caroline has to intervene. This is, after all, a redeye. Everyone should be relaxed and trying to sleep. Breakfast is to be served in only three more hours.

She briskly walks between the seats, perfecting her frown just in time. The girls immediately stop talking the moment Caroline invades their personal space. Hayley scrunches her perfect nose at Caroline. Bonnie, at least, has the decency to look apologetic.

Pushing her minty gum against her teeth, Caroline relaxes her disapproving scowl a smidge. "Ladies," she says in greeting, an unmistakable coolness in the word. "People are looking at you."

Hayley and Bonnie look around Caroline. When they see she is right, they return their focus to the blond.

"Sorry, Care," Bonnie says. "It's just so exciting. I've never had an Oscar winner on my flight! Hayley was just telling me that Klaus has refused every offer of alcohol. He's just been drinking water this whole time!"

Caroline is shocked, but not by Klaus's lack of alcohol consumption. Bonnie has never acted so starstruck. "Great, so he's a killjoy. Good to know. Do you really need to convene right here to talk about his drinking habits?"

"It's only for a second," Hayley says tiredly, reminding Caroline how unbelievable it is the taller girl still has a job. She sticks her nose up. "And no, he isn't a killjoy. He's sober. I'm sure you know _all_ about his father's history with alcohol." The way she says it makes Caroline believe Hayley suspects she does not know _all_ about it.

But she has a secret. She does know. She heard the stories firsthand, straight from the horse's mouth. The two of them, her and Klaus, bonded last August on a hot, humid day in D.C. about their father's love for alcohol. How it often outweighed their love for their children.

If she is honest with herself, those tales of watching his successful father transform into a beast in front of his young eyes are what kept her glued to him that evening. That _night_. His gentle voice broke and she pressed her mouth to his to make it all better.

She does know. And she also knows Klaus Mikaelson doesn't need alcohol to be an asshole. He manages perfectly fine without the extra help.

Caroline forces herself to smile. "Just get back to your duties soon, ladies," she says. She moves away from Hayley and Bonnie, striding back to her hiding spot.

It takes them a few seconds, but the women do separate. Hayley disappears behind the blue curtain, Bonnie goes up to a passenger who has an issue with their screen. And Caroline snuggles herself into her lovely corner, the pressure in her ears still refusing to release, crossing her fingers and toes she is not forced to interact with Klaus Mikaelson.

Only four more hours until they land in Heathrow. Then only twenty minutes before everyone is off of the flight. Then she will be safe and free not to think of the bastard ever again. Well, until she can't fall asleep. At which point, against her will, her brain will replay their night together on loop, taunting her, daring her to get aroused.

Great, now her mind is filling with the memories. She tries outrageously hard to keep them suppressed, locked away, but the stress of him being so close to her combined with her fucking ears and their stupid, fucking inability to pop (the gum was no help) has forced her guard down.

His touch on her thighs floods her head. Whenever she blinks, she sees him undressing in front of her as she lays back against the fluffy pillows decorating his bed. She sees his hardness curved against his abs, jolting with anticipation. Feels his burning hands as they spread her legs, his devilish grin pressing in-between her thighs.

And now she is wet. On the job. Hiding at the back of the plane from the dickhead who abandoned her in his hotel room after what she considers the best sex of her life.

She has lost the sick game she plays with herself.

If she really thinks about it, which she really doesn't want to do, it is lucky that she goes nearly four hours without seeing him. And really, she doesn't _see him_ per se. He just appears when she returns with the refreshment cart. Like a magician. A demon. While the majority of the passengers sleep, careful not to wrinkle their suits, Klaus Mikaelson pops into view between the lavatories, his signature smirk tugging at his mouth.

Caroline is caught off guard. She gasps. Backing into the trolley, she blinks several times in succession, praying he is only an apparition. A ghost haunting her. Not real. But he doesn't vanish. He crosses his blazer-covered arms and his slacks-covered ankles and leans against the door to the toilet opposite Caroline's once-assumed-safe nook.

A smug look of satisfaction stares Caroline in the eye. If she didn't know any better, she would have been convinced she had entered onto the set of _Vampires and Werewolves in Love_. That look is the same his character gave his love interests before he pounced on them.

She does know better, though. This is all real. Klaus Mikaelson, multi-millionaire actor with one Academy Award, two BAFTAs, and three— _three—_ Golden Globes, is standing in front of her.

"You remember me," he says tauntingly.

Frustration pours into Caroline. His English accent is still enough to make her sway her on her feet a little. She mentally tells herself off for reacting at all to his voice and lifts her chin in defiance. "And? You're a famous actor. Even if we hadn't. . .met before, I would know who you were. I feel like I'm the one who should be surprised. Do you keep tabs on all of your one night stands?"

Shit. She wasn't supposed to mention the fact that they had slept together. _Bad Caroline_!

Klaus tilts his head down, peeking up at her through his lashes. Classic puppy dog. He is famous for it. "You really don't look happy to see me. Did our night together really mean so little to you?"

The gall. Caroline stomps her foot like a toddler to stop herself from kicking him in the crotch. "So little to _me_?" she fumes in disbelief, careful to not wake any of the sleeping passengers. "You mean that night that turned into that morning I woke up alone in a hotel room to a knock on the door from a very cruel maid and an empty bed? Oh, wait, it wasn't empty, though, was it? There was a note. Thanks for that. I've got it framed in my bedroom!"

"I meant to call," he says flippantly as he examines the beds of his nails.

Emboldened by something—the arrogance in his words, the fumes of the jet fuel lingering in the stale air, one year's worth of pent up anger—Caroline steps away from the trolley and marches towards Klaus. In her heels, she is nearly is as tall as him. It's something his IMDb page has wrong about him. He isn't 6', he's actually only 5'11". And in her two inch heels, Caroline is almost able to meet his stare directly.

His blue eyes widen for a second before turning into slits. Intrigue shines across his face. He stares back, daring her to say what is on her mind.

So be it. "You're a horrible person," she says, all of the bitter resentment she has felt towards this man bubbling up. She thoughtlessly and carelessly vomits it all over him. "You charmed me with all of your sob stories, fucked me, and left me like I was just another service offered by the hotel. You think because you're famous you can do whatever you want and treat people however you want, but that's bullshit. Other people have feelings. _I_ have feelings. _I'm_ a person too. I wish we had never met, Klaus Mikaelson. Now please, return to your seat before I drag you there by your ridiculous tie."

Caroline inhales a much-needed breath. Her skin feels as if it is on fire, but the heat is cathartic. She stares wildly at the actor, whose mouth is parted in shock. He looks almost impressed by her outburst. Almost. . .hurt.

But he can't be. Words don't hurt Klaus Mikaelson.

"What's wrong with my tie?" he says after a few moments of ringing silence, proving Caroline's point. He sulks again. Lifting the aforementioned tie decorated with several DC landmarks, he pretends to examine it while waiting for her response.

The pressure has built in her ears and now she feels like her head may explode. "Why are you on this flight?" she asks, genuinely curious. Not only does he own private jets, he can spare the money to nab one in a pinch. What's he doing suffering a commercial flight where people like Hayley could jump on him at any second?

Dropping his tie, Klaus rids his mouth of the smirk. "You want to know why I'm here?" he asks.

The sudden darkness in his eyes is enough to make Caroline rethink her question, but she will not back down. Not when she has been dying to have this confrontation for months. "I want to know why."

"You're a clever woman. Can't you tell me what I'm doing here?"

"What kind of idiotic response is that? No, Klaus, I _can't_ tell you what you're doing here. I don't know you, I don't know why you need to get to London on a redeye, and I don't know why you've foregone a private plane in favour of a 787."

The last words have barely left her tongue when Klaus reaches up, grabs her face, and kisses her. Her eyes go wide and she contemplates shoving him away—she should really shove him away— but the warmth of his mouth, the scent of whatever expensive cream he uses as moisturiser, weakens her resistance.

Her eyes close. All of her frenzied thoughts sputter and die. She melts into Klaus Mikaelson, revelling in the way his rough cheeks rub against hers.

They are closed mouth kisses that end too soon for Caroline's taste. Opening her eyes a centimetre at a time, she is almost startled to find Klaus staring at her. He lets go of her face and takes a small step back.

"That's why," he says.

"Why what?" she croaks, her fingers absently running over her swollen, parted mouth.

Klaus smirks once more, but this is one he keeps away from the cameras. This is a gentle half-smile piled high with self-loathing. She saw it back in DC. At the time, she had thought it was all a ploy to get her into bed, but seeing it here swipes at that conclusion.

He starts playing with his fingernails again. "I knew you were going to be on this flight." He drops his hands by his sides. "I didn't take it because of you," he says. "But every time I fly out of Dulles, I check to see if you're here."

His confession awakens a morsel of the anger struggling to stay afloat in her blood. "I could be the one telling you which flights I'm on," she says. "That could have been me, but you _left me_ before we exchanged numbers."

Klaus sighs and runs a hand over his face. He suddenly looks very tired. "I wanted your number," he says, and before Caroline can ask the string of questions that have popped into her head, he goes on. "I did want it. And I know that I went about it the complete wrong way. I made a bloody fool out of myself in writing that note. I thought, perhaps, arrogantly, that you'd be too enamoured with me to just leave."

"Wow," she says. "You really think that highly of yourself?"

That self-deprecating smirk returns. "I did."

"Past tense," she notes. He nods in affirmation. "And what sparked the change? What managed to finally unplug your head from your ass?"

Klaus laughs quietly. "You won't believe me."

"Try me," Caroline says, very curious to hear what he can come up with to explain away his past behaviour.

" _The Giving Tree_ ," he says.

"The children's book?"

"The very same," he says, and Caroline is too confused to call bullshit. "I was at an underfunded school in LA reading to a group of schoolchildren this book about a boy who takes a tree's love for granted, and I found myself tearing up by the end."

"So you've been trying not to take things for granted anymore," she concludes, incredulous.

"That's it stripped down, yeah," he says, stepping forward. "I took our night together for granted, and I regret that. A lot. The way you were able to get me to open up and relax. . .I've not felt like that in years, Caroline."

He still remembers her name.

Dammit.

Fuck it all—she believes him.

"And I'm on this flight," he says, "because my dad is on his deathbed and my mum begged me to get on whatever plane I could. It's coincidence that you're here too."

Sure it is. Coincidence.

Does she even believe in coincidences anymore?

Caroline slowly nods her head. She is still processing all that he told her. Still trying to work out what it means.

Has world-famous actor Klaus Mikaelson been hung up on her since they banged in a fancy hotel room a year ago?

Has regular old flight attendant Caroline Forbes been hung up on world-famous actor Klaus Mikaelson since they banged in a fancy hotel room a year ago?

She knows the answer to that one. Despite all of her internal complaints, what pissed her off the most about the note he left was that she had also never been so open with anyone before. She had also never before felt the way she had when she was with Klaus. One day with him equalled a thousand, and the abandonment she felt the following morning was worse than any previous heartbreak.

Klaus's breath skates over her mouth. He had moved closer. In the low light of the back of the plane, Caroline spots the scars on the right side of his face given by the very man he is on his way to see. She lifts her hand and touches them gently, tracing the grooves with the tip of her finger. Grabbing her hand, Klaus kisses her palm.

"Fuck it," Caroline breathes, pulling herself free from Klaus's grasp and tugging on his tie. She starts moving them backwards.

"Where are we going?"

Caroline nudges the lavatory open with her leg. "In here," she says, checking to make sure Bonnie is oblivious to what has been going on. Sure the coast is clear, Caroline shoves herself and Klaus inside the bathroom and locks the door.

It is not comfortable. It is not romantic.

Caroline stands above Klaus with her skirt hiked up to her waist, watching as he fumbles with the zipper of his trousers. He hisses when Caroline grabs his length the second he frees himself, leaning back against the wall. She strokes him for a moment.

The sight of him bare and throbbing in her hand nudges at that ache in her thighs.

She needs this. She needs _him_.

Pulling aside her underwear, Caroline lowers herself onto Klaus. Her arms go to his neck and she buries her head there, stifling a moan as they fit together. He holds her to him. Kisses her cheek. Nips at her ear.

"I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out strangled.

"I forgive you," she pants. She kisses him and he takes her lips gladly.

Their movements are fumbled and jerky. Knowing they have to be quick, Caroline thrusts one of his hands between them and guides him towards her centre. "Rub," she commands.

He catches on quick—soon, she is crying her release into Klaus's mouth. Breaking the kiss, she collapses against his shoulder, riding him haphazardly as she helps him find his own end. It arrives moments after hers. He stiffens beneath her, his teeth going into her flesh to ward off the groan she feels rumbling in his chest.

Not comfortable. Not romantic. But Caroline lifts her head and smiles at Klaus, pressing her forehead to his. She is happy. And it could be the endorphins or the dopamine or the oxytocin, but she thinks it boils down to the glowing son of Hades gasping in her face.

"You do forgive me?" he says once they've cleaned themselves up and discreetly exited the toilet.

Fiddling with the messy strands of his hair, Caroline runs her thumb along his jaw. "I do."

A new half-smile greets her. This one is relieved. "How long are you in London?"

"Funny you should ask," she says. "I'm on vacation the minute we touch down. I've rented a flat for a week."

"A week," he says. "A week is good."

"Obviously, with your dad, I understand"—

—"Don't bring him up," Klaus interrupts. "I'd much rather spend time with you."

Caroline leans up and kisses him, noticing that her ears have popped when she hears the rustling of the curtain leading to first class being pulled aside. She jumps away from Klaus. Bonnie comes up the aisle, her eyes scanning the rows of seats.

"Go the other way," she says, pointing Klaus down the opposite aisle.

"I'll wait for you at the gate," he whisper-shouts as he disappears from view.

He'll meet her at the gate.

Klaus Mikaelson, award-winning actor, will meet her at the gate.

What the fuck kind of fairytale has her life turned into?

"You haven't seen Klaus Mikaelson, have you?" Bonnie asks, joining Caroline by the trolley.

Caroline is glad for the weird lighting on the plane, otherwise Bonnie would have seen her reddening cheeks. "Nope. Why? Has he gone missing?"

Bonnie shrugs. "Kind of? Hayley's convinced he's jumped out of the plane."

"I think we'd know if that had happened."

"That's what I said, but she's not exactly the brightest. I think he just snuck off to get away from her."

"Mm, you might be onto something there," Caroline muses.

"Who knows." Bonnie opens a bottle of water and takes a few sips. "Everyone's basically asleep. Wanna play a round of something?"

Caroline could use a light distraction. Something—anything—to get her mind off of Klaus and her childish excitement at the prospect of seeing him again in just a couple of hours. "Sure," she says, steadying her breathing as Bonnie grabs her deck of cards.

"Care?" Bonnie says, rifling through her bag.

"Hm?" she says lazily.

Bonnie frowns and points. "What's that mark on your neck?"


End file.
